Part 19 (1/2)
”No.”
”Good. That would be wrong.”
”What if we just called him up and said 'I know where you buried the bodies.'? We could go on and on and say 'We know what you did, you sick twisted b.a.s.t.a.r.d' and at the end of the call just say 'We hope you get the part!' and hang up.”
”He'd know it was us.”
”How?”
”Because we live next door, dorkwad.”
”We could pretend we were strangers from out of town who were peeking in his windows.”
Roger grinned. ”It might be kind of funny.”
”Do you want to call him?”
”No, but you can.”
”I might.”
”Go for it.”
”What's his name?”
”Dennis Catovin.”
”Have you got a phone book.”
”In the kitchen.”
We tiptoed into the kitchen (well, not literally, we just walked quietly) to avoid waking up Roger's parents, although if they could sleep through the monster belches, they could sleep through anything. Roger handed me the phone as he looked up Dennis's number. ”Make sure you disguise your voice,” he said.
”Yes, sir,” I said, disguising my voice.
”Disguise it better.”
”Yes, sir,” I said, disguising it better. I was going for something in a low, raspy, vaguely sinister motif, but thinking back, it probably just sounded like p.u.b.erty gone terribly wrong.
I dialed the number and waited.
”h.e.l.lo?”
”We saw the butcher knife,” I whispered. ”We know...”
”f.u.c.k!”
A click on the other end, and then a dial tone.
”Oops,” I said.
”What happened?” Roger asked.
”He said 'f.u.c.k' and hung up.”
”Why did he do that?”
”I dunno.”
”Well, call him back. Let him know we were just kidding.”
I dialed again.
No answer.
And then an answer: ”Leave me alone! You didn't see it!”
”Uh, Dennis...?”
He hung up again.
”Okay,” I said. ”That was...weird.”
”Did he know it was you?”
”He's never even met me!”
”Is he coming over here?”
”How should I know?”
”Let's go look!”
We hurried upstairs into Roger's room. He immediately peeked through the telescope. ”He's there in his living room. He's lying on the floor.”
”Is he hurt?”
”I can't tell. The knife is next to him. Oh, jeez, what if he killed himself?”
”Should we call the police?”
”I don't know...I don't see any blood...”
”Maybe we should go over there.”
Roger nodded. ”Yeah, let's go.”
We hurried back downstairs, quietly opened the front door, and then rushed across Roger's yard over to his neighbor's house.
”Should we knock?” I asked.